


we all need someone to lean on

by thekaidonovskys



Series: we found love in a hopeless place [9]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Clint Barton, M/M, Sub Phil Coulson, Top Drop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:56:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekaidonovskys/pseuds/thekaidonovskys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint needs a moment to pull himself together because that man down there is Phil Coulson, senior SHIELD agent, and Clint's boss. He's calm and sure and he isn't frightened or in sub drop and he's okay, goddamnit. Clint closes his eyes, takes three long deep breaths, then focuses on the conversation below him. </p>
<p>He doesn't open his eyes though. His careful compartmentalisation appears to be thrown off by the scene in front of him, and Clint is not compromising the mission just because his fucking Dom instincts won't shut up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we all need someone to lean on

**Author's Note:**

> I've consumed a lot of D/s fic in my time, and I find that top drop is rarely ever mentioned, or is very briefly touched on and then 'passes' within the space of a minute. I wanted to explore it more than that. I also write tactical/mission/combat etc really badly so sorry for the first quarter or so of the fic.

So, technically when Clint claimed Phil, that should have put an end to their working relationship.

Couples don't work together. It's logical - personal lives invading in professional nearly always lead to problems. Within work time, a submissive SHIELD agent should only be held accountable to their supervisory agent and Nick Fury, with allowances only made in cases of sub distress or personal emergency. Clint has personally seen agents in training scenarios frozen, torn between orders from Phil and conflicting demands from their Dom - which is exactly what the training scenarios exist for, in cases where couples try to demand to work together. Phil's collaring should have ended with Clint being assigned to a new primary field handler within the day. 

The problem is, Phil just wasn't prepared to let that happen. And if Phil Coulson doesn't want something to happen, it's a pretty safe bet that he'll get what he wants. 

Their case had been fairly strong, with Phil pointing out the obvious that Clint isn't in a position to give orders to him in the field. Clint's status as an Avenger had also helped - as well as Phil's status as being the one who routinely bosses around the Avengers, a team of six strong Dominants. Besides, Clint is advanced enough that he doesn't need an official handler within SHIELD, and really could almost get away without a voice in his ear during most of the routine ops he goes on.

But he likes a voice in his ear - he likes _Phil's_ voice in his ear - and Phil feels strongly about it, so it's easy for Clint to put his support behind Phil on this one. The considerations for why Dom and sub partners don't always work too well together in the field don't even cross his mind; Clint knows he and Phil both have strong control over their base instincts, and neither would deliberately compromise a mission by putting their personal lives first. Clint has never had any qualms about taking Phil's orders in the field, and has never tried to give any of his own in return, especially not as a Dom. In Clint's mind, there's nothing else to consider - neither one of them plans on fucking this up by letting their personal lives intervene. 

Such a pity that Clint's exceptional self control doesn't always extend to his surroundings. 

*** 

The op is routine - smugglers, working the Canadian border, with something that glows a sickly orange on the infrared and they all really hope it isn't human. It's fly-in fly-out, nab the head of the operation, and try not to make contact with anything radioactive or extraterrestrial. Or radioactively extraterrestrial. 

The days of Strike Team Delta might be over, but Phil's teams are still usually small, with minimal ground forces and always eyes in the sky. Today there's three of them - Clint up high, Phil and another specialist, Collins, coming from opposite directions towards the target. Clint's been in his perch for hours, right on top of the building, with the others beginning their advances when he gave the go ahead, half an hour after the targets arrival. Clint's watching the approach, and also keeping an eye on inside. He's warned about where to avoid, but it's up to the agents to see who can get inside first. 

"In position," Collins reports, and Clint focuses on him. "I think I could get through, but it'd leave me going in the front or trying to get up in the side windows, and neither is very subtle. 

"Similar from my side," Phil says. "There's a side door but it's got a keypad and I might be spotted before I crack it. Barton, your call. Who's the most likely?"

Clint weighs it up. "You'll have the best chance, sir. I've got the code for the side door."

"How on earth did you get that?"

"They don't call me Hawkeye for nothing," Clint says cheerily, and gives him the code. "Is Collins decoying?"

"Flash bombs," Phil confirms. "Picked out the spots?"

Of course Clint has, and quickly guides Collins to the spots, watching while he activates them. Clint counts down, then covers his eyes and winces through the explosion - harmless, but realistic. By the time he can look, Phil's gone and the side door is swinging closed behind him. 

"Oh," Phil says after a few seconds. "Well, that's blown it."

"Sir?" 

"This is apparently the emergency exit. I'm about to be compromised." 

Clint immediately hits several buttons - the call for backup, the retreat signal for Collins, and Phil's tracer. "I'm right behind you," he says, and slips into the vent he prepared earlier.  

"Hang back," Phil says. "Don't engage. I've got this... hello, gentlemen. Yes, don't worry, I'll come quietly."

Clint stays perfectly still, watching the blip of Phil's tracer until it moves two corridors away. Then he silently follows, his route a little more circumvent due to vent placement but getting him there in the end.  

There turns out to be a back room, with a vent opening and a large window for exit purposes - and thank god, no signs of toxic orange goo. Clint stakes out a spot with a small opening, slides into place, glances in...  

And immediately has to hold himself back. Every instinct screams for him to get in there and rescue his sub.  

Phil's tied up, wrists bound to the back of the chair and ankles to the legs. He appears uninjured, conscious, and fully aware of his surroundings, but he's still tied up and in a room with someone who wants to cause him harm and would definitely not honour his safeword and Clint needs to break in and -

And then Phil speaks, and Clint needs a moment to pull himself together because that man down there is Phil Coulson, senior SHIELD agent, and Clint's boss. He's calm and sure and he isn't frightened or in sub drop and he's _okay_ , goddamnit. Clint closes his eyes, takes three long deep breaths, then focuses on the conversation below him. 

He doesn't open his eyes though. His careful compartmentalisation appears to be thrown off by the scene in front of him, and Clint is not compromising the mission just because his fucking Dom instincts won't shut up.

The conversation is nothing out of the ordinary - bravado, bluff, and quiet confidence from Phil. No state secrets are revealed, but enough information comes out through the typical bragging to tell Clint that they've got their man. So Phil will be taking him alive, probably waiting for the distraction of backup to make his move. And since the target is stupid enough to be alone in a room with a fully trained SHIELD agent tied up with only a few ropes, Clint knows how easy it will be for Phil to take him out when the time comes. 

A soft ping comes over the open comms, indicating imminent backup and extraction. Clint sneaks one peek, just to judge how Phil's distributed his weight and where the target is standing, and nods, preparing himself to kick the vent in. Phil's planned tactic will either result in immediate takedown, or require a second pair of hands, and Clint's ready. And Phil knows he's ready, and is making his own plans accordingly.  

They really do work well together, and for a moment the warm glow of satisfaction outweighs the rolling anxiety and unrest in Clint's mind. This is why the argument against them continuing to work together was minimal at best. 

(If anybody had access to the inside of Clint's head right now, however, perhaps those arguments would hold a bit more weight.)

Then he hears Phil's code word, casually dropped into conversation, and opens his eyes, readying himself for action - which, as it turns out, isn't needed. As the captor steps closer, prompted by a mild taunt, Phil shifts his weight, rises, and swings the chair. It frees itself, smashes into the man, and Phil's got his gun before he hits the floor. He holds it in one hand while he binds the man's wrists and ankles together, then stands up and looks around. "Okay, Barton," he says.  

Clint kicks in the panel and drops down next to him. "Sorry, sir," he says.  

"For what?" Phil asks. "I told you to stay back."

"For..." Clint shakes his head. "Nothing. Good to see you in one piece."

Phil gives him a swift look, then apparently gets distracted by the sound of fighting. "That'll be backup," he says, stowing the gun and grabbing the ropes binding the former captor. "Help me with the deadweight?"

Clint does, and for the rest of the extraction process it's mercifully easy to concentrate. They hand over the target to Maria, who's arrived with the rest of backup, then get themselves preliminary medical clearing before helping with cleanup. In fact, Clint absorbs himself so fully in following orders and taking care of jobs, that he doesn't realise that Phil's already cleared the scene and left for headquarters until Clint's put in the last plane with four other agents, three medics, and no Phil.

Another small mercy - the trip back to the Helicarrier is short enough that nobody gets a chance to see Clint's panic. Clint keeps his head turned, staring out the window, and very carefully keeps breathing and definitely does not call Phil to find out where he is. Of course Phil's gone ahead, he's got to do the official handover to get the target into custody, and there's no reason he should have waited around for Clint. Medical would have picked up if anything were wrong, Phil will get a full examination before he's cleared to leave the Helicarrier, and everything is fine, Clint, stop _fussing_.  

When they land, Clint does the unthinkable and heads straight for medical. His reasoning is twofold; clearing medical fast means more time to track down Phil, and there's also a good chance that Phil's still there getting his own clearance. SHIELD is strict about subs who are injured or captured during ops, as Phil has bemoaned to Clint in the past, telling stories about being kept in observation for hours because of a small number of facial injuries that they were afraid might have triggered subdrop. At the time Clint had laughed - now he's grateful for it. Phil is not leaving medical until everybody, Clint included, is satisfied that he's completely level and safe.  

Phil is in medical, and he's in the general room which is good news. Clint heads straight for him, sitting on the bench across from him. "Sir," he says with a nod. 

Phil frowns. "Barton? Usually you're deep in the vents by now - are you injured?"

Clint shrugs. "Thought I'd just bow to the inevitable," he says casually. "And you? Are... how's everything?" 

"With the target? He's in holding until tomorrow, give him a chance to think -"

"Not the target," Clint mumbles, and Phil breaks off, frowning deeper. "You. Your medical. Are you -?"

Phil's lips twitch slightly - Clint knows his subtle really isn't subtle. "Perfectly fine," Phil says. "They'll be letting me go soon."

"Already? They don't want to observe you?"

"No, and don't go giving them ideas to try it," Phil says, smiling. "I have reports to write, and I'd like to have a long shower. What is it with secret headquarters and grime?"

Clint doesn't laugh. "They checked your levels, right?"

Phil's smile fades, and the confused frown is back. "Yes, of course they did. It's the first thing they always do."

He looks like he's about to question Clint, but then two doctors arrive, one for each of them. Clint has to focus on himself now, because otherwise they'll be convinced that he's got a concussion and keep him under observation instead of Phil. 

There's a moment at the end where he's worried that somethings wrong - the doctor working with Phil takes Clint's doctor aside and they murmur together, glancing between the two of them. Clint notices that most of the glances are at him, but before he has time to really wonder what's going on, they're back. "We're releasing you into each other's care," Phil's doctor says. "The time together will do more good than we can here - but if things are amiss tomorrow, report back."

Clint doesn't really get what they're saying, but isn't going to argue. Time together with Phil is exactly what he needs - time to be able to reassure himself that Phil is completely okay. So he just nods and mumbles something positive and grabs his things, watching Phil do the same. Phil lingers, though, asking about the status of their target, and Clint has to fight hard not to just grab Phil and drag him out. He settles instead for ordering them a priority shuttle and, as soon as Phil has his answers, walking them briskly there. 

Phil raises an eyebrow at the shuttle. "Are we in a hurry?" he asks. 

"Just want to go home," Clint says, again resisting the urge to pull Phil close. SHIELD shuttles are still technically work, and Phil isn't his yet, and every second of this ride just drags. 

Finally, they're home. And mercifully, none of the common rooms on the way to their apartment are occupied. Clint spares a movement to wonder whether JARVIS has been installed in the SHIELD system again and knows to keep people away, then dismisses it. He really doesn't care about anything but Phil right now. 

Once they're inside, Clint guides Phil to the living room, then stops. "Do you want to shower first?" he asks. "Or food, you probably need food, right? Food is probably best. You can - maybe you should come with me. You probably don't want to be alone." 

Phil frowns at him. "I'm not going to break, Clint. I can handle ten minutes alone; I can also get my own food if need be. But I'm not really that hungry." 

"Okay, that's fine. You want to sit down then? We can do that."

"Of course we can. I've always been capable of sitting. And now you're starting to freak me out a bit. What's going on?"

"Just want to be sure you're fine." 

"You do remember the part where I got released from medical with a full bill of health, right?"

"Medical get things wrong," Clint mutters. 

Phil's eyes narrow. "What about me? When it comes to telling you how I feel, do I get it wrong? Because I feel fine."

"Might be some delayed reaction though," Clint argues. "If it all hits you later -"

Phil sighs. "Clint. Please stop. Why can't you accept that I'm okay?"

"Because I'm not okay!"

The words are out before he registers - and Phil's eyes go impossibly soft and understanding. "Oh," he murmurs. "And now things make a lot more sense." 

Clint groans and scrubs a hand over his face. "It's not about me," he says. 

"It is," Phil says, catching his hand and drawing it away so their eyes can meet. "It's always about both of us, how we help each other and give each other what we need. And right now you need a lot more than I do."

Clint admits defeat - to Phil, and also to himself. "This is some kind of fucked up top drop isn't it?"

"It's not fucked up, but yes, I think it's top drop. And it's completely reasonable, Clint, considering what happened out there - you saw your sub being treated badly and you didn't stop it. You were right not to stop it, and you know I have no negative feelings towards you, but your instincts don't see it that way. You feel like you failed as a Dom because you didn't keep your sub safe."

Clint just nods. His throat is tight and he feels stupid and small. 

Phil keeps looking at him, then nods. "A shower is a great suggestion," he says. "I think I'd feel even better after a shower, especially if you come with me and wash my hair?" 

Clint's emotions settle a little at the thought of being able to look after his sub in a tangible way - then he smiles wryly. "I see your game," he says.

Phil inclines his head slightly. "Are you willing to play?" he asks. "I'm not going to pretend to distress that I don't feel, but I'm happy to be docile and pliant and let you fuss over me." 

"You're such a good boy."

Clint's already feeling better, thanks to the clear trust coming from his sub, but he's still shaky around the edges. Even though medical checked Phil out, Clint still feels the need to run his own eye over every inch of Phil and see the damage (or lack of) for himself. He tells Phil as such, who smiles and takes his hand. "Another good reason to shower," he says. 

"Okay. But then I'm feeding you." Clint stops then (they've made it all of one step towards the bathroom), racked with indecision. "Or should you eat first?"

"You tell me."

Clint bites his lip and weighs it up - and something usually so simple just isn't computing for him today. He doesn't know what to prioritise, how to meet Phil's needs - shit, he's not even sure he's got it right, what if Phil needs something he hasn't even thought of?

"Hey," Phil says, soft and firm, and steps in front of him, catching Clint's other hand and holding both tight. "Clint, if you can't do it, it's okay. If you need me to call the shots -"

"No," Clint says quickly, because he is _not_ safewording over this. Phil looking after himself is definitely not going to help Clint feel any better. "No, I can do it."

"Then do it. Don't second guess yourself - you know how to look after me."

Clint nods. "Okay," he says, his voice steadier than how he feels. "Shower, then."

Phil follows him to the bathroom, obedient and calm. He stays that way while Clint runs the water and undresses them both - sometimes Phil turns his nose up at being undressed, since he's perfectly capable of doing it himself, but today he's docile, doing exactly as Clint asks. Clint washes him, mapping out every tiny mark and bruise, and Phil tells him, in as much detail as he can, how they all happened. There's nothing serious, and Phil is so pliant and trusting in his hands, and Clint still isn't fucking okay. 

But he's working on it. He shuts the water off before it runs cold, and dries Phil off with the fluffiest towel they own. Phil gets dressed while Clint dries and dresses himself, then waits - and Clint loves him so much, because Phil is completely fine, would be perfectly happy looking after himself, and is probably closer to feeling smothered than cared for, but he's still just letting Clint do what he needs. 

When Clint is back on an even keel, Phil is going to be rewarded so hard. 

But Clint isn't on an even keel, so for now he takes Phil to the kitchen so he can be where Clint can see him while he cooks them dinner. Phil just sits on the counter and watches - usually he'd offer to help, but he can obviously tell that this is something Clint needs to do on his own. This is Clint providing for his sub. 

Dinner is simple - grilled cheese and soup - and Phil kneels by his side at the dinner table without needing to be asked. Clint feeds him slowly and carefully, only eating his own (now cold) food once Phil is done. Clint takes the plates back to the kitchen, runs some water over them, then abandons the dishes and takes Phil to the couch, stopping Phil when he tries to kneel again. "I've got to hold you," Clint says, feeling almost ashamed of how needy the admission is. "I'm sorry, I know you're fine and you don't need - wait. You are fine, right? I mean, I know you were, but then we got focused on me and my fucked up-ness and you'd tell me if you weren't...?"

Phil settles in Clint's lap, winds his arms around Clint's neck, and smiles fondly at him. "I'm fine," he says. "And yes, I'd tell you. And you're not fucked up. Is this how you want me?" 

"Yeah," Clint murmurs, burying his head in Phil's shoulder and breathing deeply. There have been plenty of studies done into pheromones and scenting, and not much conclusive has come out of it, but Clint has always felt more secure when he's breathing in Phil's scent with the knowledge that Phil is calm and happy. "You sure I'm not an imposition?" he has to ask, just one last time. 

"I'm at my happiest when I know I'm making you happy," Phil says simply, and with that Clint can let himself go, can relax and lose himself in Phil's scent for as long as he needs.  

It turns out to be awhile. And Clint's aware of how embarrassingly long he's been here, how much comfort he's trying to give to someone who doesn't need it. He feels stupid, but even that doesn't make him pull away until a few good minutes later, murmuring an apology to Phil as he lets him go and allows him to move away.  

Phil doesn't. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, nuzzling Clint's neck. "I'm here and I like being here. You make me feel safe."

And it's those words that do it - Clint actually feels the shift as his equilibrium slides back to central. The unease and uncertainty lifts, and maybe tomorrow he'll feel a bit of it again but for right now he feels solid and sure. He takes a few more deep breaths, then guides Phil's head up and covers his face with kisses, smiling at Phil's surprise. "Hey," Clint murmurs when he's done, smiling at Phil properly.  

Phil smiles too. "Hi," he says. "Feeling better, then?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

"I'm never gonna complain about attention, but you're welcome."

"I didn't realise it would be that difficult," Clint admits, because he wants to talk about this now, while he's still close enough to the feelings to feel them. "Usually in the field you're my boss and that's it." 

"I was non-consensually restrained," Phil points out. "Do you think that had something to do with it?"

"Probably." Clint shrugs. "End of the day, it's what you said at the start - I didn't keep you safe when I could have. At least it didn't cloud my judgement, then I'd have to start considering whether I can work with you safely or not." 

It's a hard thing to say. Phil thankfully doesn't take it wrong. "We deliberately keep the line drawn at work," Phil says. "What happens outside of our control is - well, outside of our control. We're agents out there, but we're still people, and we've all been affected by something in the field that we didn't expect. It's not about how you feel, it's about how you act and whether you compromise the mission, and you didn't. I've gotten sub drop after ops, that doesn't stop me from going out and doing my job - and it doesn't stop you from letting me. I'm not going to tell you that we should stop working together, unless you think that's a good -"

"It's a horrible idea," Clint says flatly. "We're a team. As long as you still trust me to have your back?" 

"Always. You proved that through your actions today, just like you do with any other mission that upsets you personally. We deal with what happens in the field, then come home and deal with how it affects us as people. That's how we stay safe, sane, and human."

Clint smiles. "You always have the wisest words," he says. 

"That's what I'm here for," Phil says cheerfully. "My purpose in life has always been making you see sense."

"Don't forget looking pretty," Clint says, smirking a little. "My life is much improved by how pretty you are." 

Phil blushes, which was absolutely Clint's goal and makes him look even cuter.  But he also winds his arms around Clint's neck and kisses him, slow and soft. "You're pretty too," he murmurs. "By which I mean pretty fucking gorgeous." 

Clint can feel his own blush, which is definitely not as amusing as when Phil does it, and diverts Phil the best he can, kissing along Phil's jaw and nipping lightly at the skin. Judging by Phil's shiver, it's working. "You know all those needs you didn't have?" Clint murmurs. "Changed your mind yet?"

"I think I can come up with something."

"There are at least three potential innuendos in that sentence," Clint informs him, then scoops Phil up and carries him to the bedroom. 

Later, he'll probably need more reassurance. Tomorrow might be worse again. And once it's all over, they'll have to sit down and talk it all out, about what to do if it happens again and code words and Clint making things clearer and better communication.  

Right now, all Clint is focused on is making Phil feel good. And no amount of top drop will ever stop him from achieving his goal. 

**Author's Note:**

> Next fic: As much as the Avengers try to avoid their celebrity status, sometimes the inevitable needs to be bowed to. And sometimes the inevitable involves Bucky and Phil.


End file.
